Invisible
by nytecat
Summary: Everyone has a story. Even an average joe like Conrad Verner.


**INVISIBLE**

_Author's note: I had an idea for this story when I first saw that scene in Eternity. I finally put thought to paper. Events take place during ME 1 and before ME 2._

* * *

Conrad's day began like any other, with his boss yelling at him.

"You idiot, Conrad! How could you mix up the manifests? You're costing me thousands of credits!"

The harangue continued at some length until his boss ran out of steam, spluttering to a stop. Conrad had a thought - well, glimmer of hope - that the man would keel over right there and then. He seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack.

His boss was a little man, looking like a red-haired meatball in a bad suit propped up by two sticks. The ruddiness of his face had darkened to a deep purple. His chest heaved, the breath whooshing from his gasping mouth like bellows blowing air onto a fire. There was a wild, maddened look in his wide bug eyes.

For a long moment, he merely stared at Conrad. Then, slowly, he raised a shaking hand to wipe off the river of spittle that dripped down his chin. He dried his hand on the pants of his trousers. With the same hand, he dug out a transparent pill container from his vest pocket and tapped out a couple of small round pills into his mouth, tilting back his head and dry swallowing them. He closed his eyes in relief.

Conrad knew that once his boss had his fix, he would calm down and be reasonable. There would be a curt dismissal and then Conrad would be on his way. He was eager to go. He had discovered a good napping spot behind some security crates near the south dock.

In a few minutes, his boss's breathing and complexion returned to normal. The mad look had left his eyes replaced by a dead glassiness. His compressed lips wiggled underneath his bushy moustache like fat Terran worms as the man grunted, leaning on the crowded desk with his hands. A tower of datapads stacked near the corner of the table quivered from his movement.

Conrad saw his boss begin to compose himself. He smiled to himself. He would be reprimanded and then he could leave. Just like any other day.

Then suddenly, Conrad's day became one unlike any other.

His boss seemed to take a deep breath. The look he fixed on Conrad was not one of anger but surprisingly of regret. He then sat down, falling into his chair like a sack of potatoes.

"I'm not going to do this anymore, Conrad," his boss said then. He raised his right hand and fingered the centre of his chest. "My doc says that all this yelling is not good for my heart."

His boss leaned back into his chair. He contemplated Conrad beneath lowered brows. He sighed. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to let you go," he said at last.

Conrad blinked and unconsciously stepped closer to the desk. He bumped into the table and the tower of datapads wobbled but remained erect. His mouth opened once then closed. He found his voice.

"Can you please repeat that, sir?" Conrad asked weakly. "I think I must have misheard you."

His boss shook his head, his jowls quivering above his collar. "Oh no, you didn't," the man replied. He hesitated then added, "The truth is, lad, you're costing me too much money. I can't afford anymore to turn a blind eye to your daily mistakes. Not to mention your napping on the job!"

"Please, Mr Maguire," Conrad began to say.

The man cut him off gently. He held up a hand and Conrad buttoned up. He opened a drawer and took out a credit chit. His omni tool flared as he transferred some funds.

He held out the chit to Conrad. "Here's three weeks pay. I know that your wife is expecting. It's the best I can do," he said.

Conrad merely glanced at the chit dully. His boss waggled the chit at him before he slowly accepted it. He turned it over slowly in his hands as if he had never seen one in his life.

"Well, that's that," his boss said then. He waved at the door, clearly dismissing Conrad from his presence. He turned back to his terminal and went back to work.

After a few moments, his boss looked up from his terminal. An irritated look flashed across his chubby features. "You can leave now, Conrad. Goodbye and good luck," the man growled.

Conrad hesitated. In his head, there were hundreds of excuses, pleas and arguments for him not to be fired. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

The man waited politely but when Conrad continued to gape like a gasping fish on dry land, his patience wore out.

"What are you still standing there for? Get out. Vamos. Scram!" the man said, his voice rising in anger. "You're fired, idiot!"

The man's yells jolted Conrad into action. He turned and fled from the office. In his haste to get out, he accidentally slammed the door shut.

The tower of datapads on the corner of the desk tottered and succumbed to gravity.

* * *

Conrad left the cubby-hole that his boss called an office. He fumed with every step as he descended from the foreman's trailer. When he got off the last step, he whirled around and stabbed a finger at the door. He wished that it was a stake in his boss's heart.

"Oh yeah? Well, you'll be sorry that you fired Conrad Verner!" Conrad yelled. "Don't come begging me to come back!"

A dock worker passing by overheard him and snickered. Conrad glared at the salarian who exploded with laughter. By the time the alien had finally caught his breath, Conrad was long gone.

The human stalked into the locker room. It was mid shift and so the room was empty. He went to his locker and opened it. With quick and sure movements, he emptied out his belongings into the duffel bag he had pulled out from the bottom compartment.

His breathing got more frenzied as he worked.

Suddenly, Conrad stopped. He stared at a photograph in his hand. For a long moment, he stared at the photograph before he carefully folded it and placed it in his back pants pocket. He resumed his packing. His movements were slow and thoughtful.

When the last item had been packed away, he zipped shut the duffel bag and closed the locker. Its door slid shut with a soft hum. He cast the locker room a desperate glance then swung the bag over his shoulder.

He turned around, took a step and stumbled into the bench, falling to his knees. The duffel bag hit the ground with a dull thump. For a long moment, he knelt there like a whipped sinner before the altar.

Then Conrad lowered his head into his hands.

The silence of the locker room was broken by the sound of a man weeping.

* * *

It was very quiet in the dark apartment.

Conrad chased a trio of peas around his plate with a fork. He glanced up to look at his wife but she was keeping her gaze stubbornly on her own plate. The shifting shadows cast from the stunted candles in the centre of table made it hard to read her expression. But knowing his wife, she was probably pissed.

It was a tableau like a romantic candlelit dinner scene from an old Earth vid. In truth, electricity to the unit had been shut off earlier that day and they had to eat a cold dinner, made from canned food, by candle light.

"Honey, will you please say something? Please?" Conrad said then. His voice sounded discordantly loud to his ears.

Silence answered him.

Conrad took a deep breath and tried again.

"Don't worry about a thing, babe," he said. "Everything is going to be okay. I'll figure something out," he assured her earnestly, reaching across the table to take his wife's hand.

His hand closed around empty air.

They stared at each other wordlessly as his wife folded her hands in front of her. She finally raised her head to look at him. The expression in her dispassionate eyes made Conrad wish that she had kept her gaze to her meal.

"We can get through this. Together," he said softly. His voice lacked conviction. He coughed and went on in a more confident tone. "I've been going to interviews and I heard about a vacancy as a bouncer in Flux. I'll get a job soon. Don't worry."

"It was a mistake," she said then. She nervously twirled her wedding ring between her fingers. "A terrible mistake," she continued in a whisper.

Conrad punched the table causing his wife to jump. He stood up, knocking back his chair. It fell to the floor with a metallic clatter.

"Damn it, Darla!" he shouted. His shout reverberated on the walls. "I don't want to that hear again," he growled in a softer tone.

He angrily swept his arm in a gesture that took in the darkness of the apartment. "This! This is not my fault. I'm trying," he said. His breath caught in throat. He swallowed and forced the words out. "I'm really trying, darling. I love you," he continued on in a gentler tone.

His wife refused to look at him. She lowered her gaze to her face as tears began to leak down her cheeks and splash on the table's surface. Her shoulders slumped and began to rise and fall. Soft despaired sounds bubbled from her mouth.

Conrad gazed at his wife for many moments. His mouth worked but no apology came out.

He stormed out. The sound of her silent tears chased him all the way.

* * *

Flux was his sanctuary that night. And the many nights that followed after.

In the club, no one paid him a second glance. He could have been one of those pathetic duct rats you see crawling around the wards. Conrad hunkered despondently on his stool and noisily sucked his beer.

The owner of Flux, an amicable volus, would engage Conrad in conversation. Or try to. Conrad's monosyllabic replies soon grew old and the volus moved on to other more interesting patrons.

It had begun like a night like any other for Conrad. He was manly drinking his beer and brooding like a man of importance would be. He deliberately cast an aura of menace, causing the other patrons to wisely avoid him.

It was a night like any other until something on the overhead screen above the bar caught his eye.

The screen showed a news report on the geth attach on Eden Prime. Although he could not hear what the reporter was saying, Conrad could read the blurbs that scrolled across the bottom.

It was then that he saw her.

The hero of Eden Prime. The most beautiful, fearless woman he had ever seen.

"She's amazing," Conrad said aloud.

The volus bartender was wiping a glass clean nearby. He glanced at the news report and could not see what the attraction was. "Who?" he asked nonchalantly.

Conrad pointed at the still photo of the woman. "Commander Shepard," he gushed. He could imagine the two of them sitting down for a beer together. "I want to be exactly like her," he went on.

"That's the most asinine thing I ever heard," the volus muttered under his breath. He had politely lowered his voice to keep from hurting the Earth-clan's feelings.

It would not have mattered if the volus had not. Conrad was already lost in his fantasies. Shepard had been Earth born like him. They had so much in common already!

Conrad had to meet her.

* * *

Conrad's wife had not been impressed with the autograph. Nor had the people at Flux seemed to care about the photograph of Commander Shepard.

It did not matter.

He and Shepard had a connection.

* * *

The wall knocked the breath out of him. Conrad tried to squirm his way out of the woman's steel grasp. The barrel of her gun bit into his temple.

"Conrad, you have no idea what it takes to get the job done," Shepard seethed, her voice pure volcanic anger.

The barrel of the gun bit deeper. "This is how a gun in your face feels like! It happens to me every day. You can't handle this!" she snarled. Her beautiful features were contorted with rage.

For a minute, it looked like Shepard would pull the trigger. Her eyes had gone to killer cold.

He grasped her wrist, tried to break her hold but could not. His veins were flooded with fear and his pants were damp and warm at the groin area. "I thought you were a hero!" he whimpered. "Heroes don't do things like this!" he cried.

Conrad's cry caught the attention of a few salarians. They glanced at the group and thought it wise that their attention be diverted elsewhere.

Shepard released Conrad. Her face was impassive as the man stumbled away from her.

"I wish I had never met you!" Conrad sobbed as he ran away.

* * *

He had run away then. Ran like a dog with its tail between its legs. Conrad ran until his legs turned to jelly and he slumped against a wall near a Rapid Transit terminal. The directional sign next to the door read: Chora's Den.

Conrad tried to scrub his cheeks dry with the palms of his sweaty hands. After several minutes he gave up. His sobs had turned to whooping coughs as the air in his lungs burned with every breath.

A gang of turians stumbled out of a doorway. They stared at the sight of a grown human man crying. Jeers erupted from the group.

"What the hell are you staring at?" Conrad yelled.

The turian exchanged glances with his comrades. One of them nudged the leader in the ribs.

"Nothing," the turian replied, his lips curling into a feral sneer. "Isn't that right, guys?"

One turian nodded. "Nothing worth paying attention to," he answered derisively.

The other turians tittered.

"Why don't you go home and cry, human?" another turian heckled.

If Shepard was here, Conrad thought to himself, she would not run away.

Conrad swallowed. His pants stickily stuck to his flesh where it had dried. He pushed himself away from the wall and faced the turians.

This, this was his big moment. He would prove that he was Spectre material and show everyone, his wife and Shepard most of all.

Conrad shoved the thug leader in the chest.

* * *

He had spent several days laid up in the clinic. The doctor there told him that he was lucky to escape with only a few broken ribs and collarbone.

On his bed, Conrad stared at the ceiling and thought about what Shepard would have done if she had been there. Most likely, it would have been those turians lying in the clinic right now and not him.

The doctor came by his bed. "You have a visitor, Mr Verner," she told him. The doctor had an exotic accent that Conrad could not place.

Conrad wondered who it could be. Maybe Shepard had heard of his heroism and came by to commend him on his valor. He sat up in the bed and tried to look like a cool Spectre.

A moment later his wife appeared. Instead of feeling disappointed, Conrad felt relieved and...something else.

"Let's go home, Conrad," his wife said then.


End file.
